


Thunder Bellows

by mariuspondmercy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspondmercy/pseuds/mariuspondmercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their first daughter was born, things in the hospital don't go as smoothly as Marius had hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder Bellows

**Author's Note:**

> so this was originally my short story which I handed in as an assignment. it's based on something that happened to my aunt and uncle when their daughter was born, but I felt that the story would be perfect for Marius and Cosette, too.

Outside, the world was wrapped in a thin layer of snow, barely covering the pavement of the small pathway leading to their home. Inside, their maneki-neko, the fortune cat, was sitting on the window sill of their kitchen, a tiny Santa Hat crooked on its head, even though it was already the end of January. He had bought the cat on the day his wife had told him about her pregnancy. Gentle waves of excitement still flooded through him when he thought about that moment, the water carefully hitting the shore, softly washing away every pebble and shell.

The waves were back now, harder than before. A storm of joy and love stirred up the sea, creating waves as tall as trees and towers. Lightning was flowing through his veins, flooding every cell of his body. They had waited for so long, tried so much. The wait was worth it, though. This perfect little creation had already brought more joy into his life than most things ever could, and she was only a day old.

With joy in his heart, he made his way towards the hospital. The nagging feeling in the back of his mind was ignored. He had decided he needed to be happy. He had to be content, over the moon even, otherwise it would feel as if he were letting his wife down. Surely she wouldn’t want him to worry. He decided to pick up some flowers on his way, a bunch of calla-lilies, just as innocent and intriguing as her. They could be left with Cosette, untouched and unseen, until they withered away while he held pure sunshine in his arms just a few doors down the floor.

He tried hard to keep his pace slow. Running was probably not appreciated on the neonatal ward at the hospital, even though the buzzing in his limbs wanted to get out, wanted to carry him to his daughter as soon as possible. His heart raced, a wild ride on a Bavarian ski lift during a heavy snow storm. Just a few more steps, just a few more crucial seconds until he could hold his daughter.

It was surreal to think of himself as a father. Now he was someone with responsibility, with duties and, most likely, with little amount of sleep over the course of the next few months. As scary as it might sound, he felt prepared. He knew that kisses healed scraped knees, and that glasses could turn into exciting toys. He was willing to clean the kitchen after every meal because his daughter thought it more fit to throw potato mash around rather than to eat it.

Could he actually be a single parent? Arthur’s knights never fought alone, dolphins always swam in a pod. How was he supposed to raise a child by himself? They had planned it all together, Cosette and him.

Anger swept over him like bees claimed flowers.

Eclampsia. That simple word was the cause of his misery. It was burnt into his mind, held onto the railing of a sinking ship. Whenever he thought about his wife, kept alive by machines far away from their daughter, fear started to paralyse him, up to his heart and around the muscle. Safe and sound, the same way he would tuck his daughter into bed. 

During birth, Cosette had had an onset of sudden eclampsia. Liver failure, seizures, too high blood pressure; it all led to her falling into a coma. That was just the day before, he still wasn’t used to not having her around. Too often did he turn to tell her something, too often did he reach for her hand or listen out for her clear, bell-like laugh.

He could not, should not, dwell on it. No, he didn’t know if his wife was ever to wake up again. And no, he didn’t know how to cope with losing her. But he knew one thing: Cosette would not want him to neglect their daughter.

Maybe this was all a cruel trick. Maybe the universe decided to play with him, because when he finally reached the neonatal ward to see his daughter, his insides once again twisted and shrivelled.

His grip loosened slowly, as if the bouquet of flowers had gained weight with every word the nurse had said. The buzzing of the overhead neon lights suddenly became a lot louder; thousand mosquitos whirring through the thick hot summer air of southern France. With a dull thump, the flowers fell to the floor, a few petals squashed by the impact.

“What do you mean, you don’t know where my daughter is?”

“I’m sorry, Monsieur, I can’t give you any information. I’ll find someone who might know more about the situation. Maybe you could visit your wife in the meantime?”

The nurse squeezed his shoulder when she passed him on the way out, but he didn’t move a bit. His gaze was fixed on the empty cot, the name tag still on it, still acknowledging the existence of his newborn baby girl. She wasn’t just some ghost-story, she was real. If he concentrated hard enough, his finger was still ablaze with the warmth of her little hand holding onto it.

Transfixed on nothing but the pounding of his pulse, he managed to make his way to Cosette. Gripping her hand tightly, he stared at the wall, the blood pumping in his ears and through his head, a wild stream in the middle of Bavaria.

In his mind, he went through their last holiday together, just before they found out about her pregnancy. High Bavarian mountains and low, cold lakes. Laughter mixed with exhaustion and the constant dull thud of heavy boots on squeaky, moist stone ways. The small moment of bliss was rudely interrupted by a nurse clearing his throat.

“M Pontmercy? I have been informed that your daughter has been transported to another hospital. If you like, I could order a cab so you can visit her. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to see her daddy.”

The words seeped into his mind like paper sank in water; slowly and carefully. He nodded, still not really registering what was going on. But he could see his daughter, and that was all that mattered to him.


End file.
